


Unsteady Bridges

by DramaforyourLlama



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Parent, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Dick Grayson-centric, Gen, Is he a good one or a bad one? That's up to you, Non-Linear Narrative, Relationship Study, This is more angsty than I anticipated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaforyourLlama/pseuds/DramaforyourLlama
Summary: Sometimes when he felt unsure of his place at the manor or when Robin had a rough night, he’d look at Bruce and long to ask him how he felt. But then Batman would ask for his opinion on a case and Bruce would actually join Dick and Alfred for breakfast, his gaze softening when he looked at Dick, and he’d feel at ease. Bruce and Dick were partners and that was what mattered. There wasn’t any reason to rock the boat with any talk about feelings.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	Unsteady Bridges

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I've been a lurker in the baman fandom for awhile but didn't think I was going to publish any fic for it... And then this thing happened. I have a lot of feelings and thoughts about Bruce & Dick's relationship and lately they've been plaguing me until I wrote this. I didn't edit it really thoroughly because it drained me emotionally, so just a heads up that it might be a mess
> 
> Also, it was a main way for me to work through my feelings so it might be a little all over the place and a little disjointed. I'm really sorry if it doesn't read well to anyone else! As far as canon goes, this pulls from pretty much everywhere. (Except for all of the stuff that's happening in rebirth right now. I don't want to touch that mess with a ten-foot pole.)
> 
> The dialogue in italics is pulled from Teen Titans: Year 1 #3 and The New Teen Titans #55

It was strange, being Nightwing again. 

He didn’t really miss wearing the cowl, but there were some things he did find himself missing from his time as Batman. The relationship Batman had with Gotham’s police, Alfred, the batmobile, having other vigilantes so close and ready to help, Robin with his sharp wit and his little pout. He especially missed Robin.

He’d been back in Bludhaven for a month or so when he ‘ran into’ Batman on patrol. 

What are you doing in here? I didn’t think the Bat could leave Gotham unless there was an emergency,” Nightwing said, teasingly. 

He’d talked with Bruce a few times since he’d returned - there had been a lot to discuss when he came back from his time ‘vacation’ - but Bruce hadn’t sought him out since Dick had left Gotham.

“Hnnn,” said Batman. “Have you finished your patrol? I thought you might be hungry.”

Nightwing almost choked. Batman was here in Bludhaven, to take him to dinner? “Um, yeah, I’m finished for the night. It’s pretty quiet." Batman nodded and then walked away, presumably towards the batmobile. Nightwing followed. 

The ride was silent as they made their way through Bludhaven, the quiet only breaking as they ordered their food. Dick waited for Bruce to speak, but, with several attempts, he didn’t. Bruce seemed nervous. Finally after they were parked in an alley and Bruce was stealing his fries, Dick said, “What’s up, B?”

Bruce looked at him and took a deep breath. “I’m proud of you, Nightwing.” 

Dick stared at him. “What?”

“You’ve done well with Gotham. You were a good Batman, maybe even better than me, and I’m grateful.” That seemed to be all the emotion he could show because he ducked his head and went back to stealing fries but it was more than enough for Dick. He felt like he was having an out of body experience. Bruce had thought he had done well as Batman. Bruce had gone out of his way to actually tell Dick how he felt. Bruce was _proud_ of him. 

Dick smiled. “Thanks, B. That means a lot.”

* * *

The circus was loud and tight-knit. Everyone there was family in all the ways that mattered.

It had been Santino the Strongman and his wife, Renata, who had found Dick when he was five and had cut open his hand while trying to juggle knives like he’d seen Johann do. Santino had held him and sang lullabies in Spanish while Renata went to fetch his parents and a car to take them to the hospital. 

Dick had learned to tie his shoelace from Laura the fire-eater and it had been one of the clowns who had helped Mary decide which material would be best to bring into Dick’s homeschooling.

Mary and John had shown the same kindness towards the other children. Little Lisette Fischer would join in on Dick’s lessons and there were many nights when the Grayson’s small trailer would be packed with children listening to John play a song on his guitar while Mary cooked everyone dinner.

Dick had been happy. Some of the other children would dream about a time when they would leave the circus to become an astronaut or a doctor or a singer, but Dick had never really understood why anybody would want to leave. Where could be better than the circus, than family?

And then they had traveled to Gotham. 

* * *

It was strange, what Dick remembered from that night years after the fact. He couldn’t remember the last thing either of his parents had said to him, but he remembered the way blood had looked contrasted against his father’s dark skin and how his mother’s lavender perfume had still clung to her. Haly had tried all he could to keep Dick with them, but in the end there was really nothing he could do and Dick was forced to leave the only family he had left. 

Gotham’s Home for Wayward Children was harsh and cold. Some of the other children picked on him mercilessly for his accent and his background and the adults would ignore them unless they were reprimanding him. It was lonely, but this meant it was easy to sneak off to look for the man who had killed his parents. He found him, but he also found Batman.

The manor was quiet and distant. Alfred and Bruce were almost a family - just the two of them - but Alfred seemed to take orders from Bruce a little too well for Dick to really call them such. 

Bruce was gone a lot, those first few months. This was fine for Dick - who was very busy mourning what he had lost and worrying over how long it would take for his new guardian to get tired of the ‘carny kid’ and send him back to the home - but Alfred always seemed sad whenever Bruce left. 

Dick didn’t think that Alfred deserved to be sad. Alfred always made sure that Dick had enough to eat and he didn’t get mad the one time Dick couldn’t hold in his tears until he was alone and ended up getting tears all over Alfred’s nice table cloth. He also read bedtime stories to him after Dick worked up the courage to ask him to, just like his mother had done. Alfred’s stories were different from his mom’s - Shakespeare and other classics as opposed to Grimms’ fairy tales or made up stories that his mom would tell - but he had a soothing voice and didn’t seem to notice when the silent tears rolled down Dick’s cheek.

Bruce, when Dick did see him, seemed ok. He would ask how Dick was doing and if he needed anything and would sometimes even put his hand on Dick’s shoulder in a way that he found extremely comforting. But the conversations never lasted too long and he always seemed to have something else that he wanted to say but just couldn’t seem to get the words out. Dick thought Bruce was odd. Dick’s mom had said that he had a gift for reading people and would joke that he would be able to read minds by the time he was an adult, but he could never seem to read Bruce.

Dick had finally asked Alfred about him and Alfred had gotten that sad look on his face. “Oh Master Richard,” he had said, “Master Bruce was hurt when he was very young, just like you. He never quite recovered and he finds it difficult now to connect to others. I believe that he wants very much to be there for you, but it is hard for him.” 

Hearing that had resolved something inside of Dick. Alfred and Bruce weren’t a family not because they didn’t want to be, but because they didn’t know how. They were trying to help Dick, so Dick would help them. He knew a lot about families, maybe he could teach them.

* * *

Robin was a lifeline. Being able to fly like he used to, wearing his family’s colors and honoring his mother’s name, helping others; it all seemed to open something inside of him he thought had died with his parents. He still missed his parents, but it no longer felt like betrayal when he was happy and he no longer thought he would drown in his own grief. 

It had taken him a while to convince Bruce to let him help, but he eventually relented when he realized that Dick would just go without him. Alfred had not been less enthused, but had agreed when Dick said he would go to the therapist that Alfred had been trying to get him to see since he came to the manor. 

Dick also found himself able to understand Bruce better the longer he was Robin. The grunts started becoming entire sentences and every move became a language. Soon, Bruce had started to relax more and the shoulder touches became longer and more often. Bruce would even start cracking jokes every now and then on patrols. 

Dick began learning things he had never imagined. How to properly remove evidence from a crime scene, what to look for in an interrogation, how to take down an opponent bigger than him. He read books and books about forensic science and the justice system and subjects that he hadn’t even known existed. 

Bruce was a decent teacher. He wasn’t as patient or forgiving as either of his parents, but Dick was used to a strict training regime and found that falling back into one seemed to fill something he’d been missing. 

Robin soon became a part of him he never wanted to let go of and his place at Bruce’s side something he never wanted to leave.

The manor slowly but surely began to feel almost as much of a home as the circus had. 

* * *

The first time that Bruce actually saw Dick cry was the first anniversary of his parent’s death.

Dick had dreamt of the fall the night before and as a result woke up much earlier than normal, shaking and incredibly upset. The idea of getting up and going to school made him nauseous but the idea of staying in the manner made him equally sick.

Finally, after a few minutes spent feeling sorry for himself, Dick got up and began to get ready. Usually he had breakfast before showering and getting dressed, but today he thought he could use the extra time alone to get his emotions under control before he had to go face Alfred. 

The shower went relatively well but when Dick stood in his closet dressed and staring at all of the clothes he never would have worn at the circus, he found himself unable to hold back the tears any longer. 

He lay there, curled up in his closet, missing his parents and longing for his mom to pet his hair and sing lullabies like she used to when he was sick or upset. 

Bruce found him there, maybe hours later. Dick was so upset that he didn’t even notice when Bruce entered the room until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin and Bruce definitely noticed.

“Sorry, Chum. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said, and Dick finally turned to look at him. He tried to tell him it was fine, but all that came out was a wet huff. Dick felt mortified. He’d never let Bruce see him upset before; he didn’t want Bruce to think he was weak and send him away. 

“I know today must be difficult. I’ll call the school and let them know you’ll be staying home. Would you like Alfred to bring up some hot chocolate and breakfast or would you like to be alone?”

The words were said with such care and understanding that Dick threw himself into Bruce’s arms and began crying even harder. Bruce sat there in the small closet and held him, rocking back and forth and whispering soothing words. 

When Dick had cried himself out, they went downstairs and had some breakfast. Alfred gave Dick hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. They didn’t tell him that everything would be alright or that his parents wouldn’t want him to be sad. Alfred asked him questions about the circus and his parents and Dick found himself telling story after story. He hadn’t ever talked about it before because he thought that remembering would hurt. It did a little, but in a way that also felt good. 

Bruce quietly told Dick what had happened to his own parents. “I know what it’s like,” he said. “I should have told you sooner. I’m not good at this, Dick, but I do want to be there for you.”

Dick smiled up at him and patted his hand. The day was still awful, but he found himself feeling better than he had when he woke up.

* * *

Convincing Batman to stop at a burger joint before patrol ended had been surprisingly easy.

Robin had been out on the streets for a couple of months and he had started feeling comfortable with both Bruce and Batman. That particular night Robin had seen his first death on patrol and he was feeling a little upset. Batman kept looking over at him from his place behind the steering wheel as they drove home for the night and eventually he opened his mouth to ask, “Alright, Robin?”

“Fine,” Robin said, but the word came out a little choked. 

“Hnnn. Tonight was difficult. It is alright to need a moment to process. Let me help you, Robin.”

Robin thought about that for a minute and then smiled. “I’m a little hungry! Can we get burgers and fries? OH! And ice-cream?”

Batman grunted but a few minutes later Robin was licking sauce off his fingers and Batman was stealing his fries while also trying to lecture him not to get sauce on the seats.

They got fast food or ice-cream almost every other month after that.

* * *

It only took a couple of years for Dick to see Bruce as a father. He didn’t feel guilty for it. There were multiple parental figures at the circus and his parents had always been sure that he knew it was ok to look up to them all. The relationship he had with Bruce didn’t make the one he shared with his parents any less important. In fact, Dick liked to think that they’d be happy to know that there was somebody looking after him and that Dick wasn’t alone. 

Dick never told Bruce how he felt, and he had no idea how Bruce viewed him. It wasn’t something he really thought about, just something that was there inside of him. However, it seemed to be something other people thought about constantly.

“You are so lucky Brucie took you in, Richard. Not everyone has enough luck to be ward to Bruce Wayne. So many poor orphans out there,” a wealthy woman at a charity ball would say, patting Dick’s cheek and leaving powder lines there. 

“Why do you think the boy hasn’t been adopted? Is there something wrong with him, do you reckon?” someone else would ask, Dick hidden behind the buffet - he didn’t try to eavesdrop, but he was a curious boy - and someone else would scoff, “Don’t be ridiculous! For being raised in a circus, that boy is surprisingly well-behaved. No, it’s Wayne’s own fault, of course. That man would never make a decent father.”

It wasn’t just the wealthy socialites who wondered, either. The kids at school were just as curious. 

It had taken Dick days of convincing, but Bruce had finally allowed Dick to attend public school instead of sending him to boarding school or enrolling him in a prep academy. Dick had never been to school before - having been homeschooled his entire life - and he wasn’t sure he particularly liked it. 

The kids didn’t help, either. They looked at him as though he was some strange fish they’d never seen before.

“You think you're so special, Grayson, just because you were adopted by Wayne,” said Nate, a kid who never had money for lunch and would always wear the same ratty sneakers.

“I don’t think I’m special!” Dick yelled in annoyance, fed up with the endless questions and constant judgement, “And I just live with him; he didn’t adopt me.”

“Well why not? He too good to have a kid or somethin’?” 

That type of talk would always confuse Dick. He didn’t think he was particularly lucky to have been taken in by Bruce. Sure, Bruce and Alfie were great, but getting them meant he had to lose his parents which was just terrible luck. And what did it matter if he hadn’t been ‘adopted’? He’d heard the word multiple times, but it didn’t really mean anything to Dick. He lived with Bruce and they got along, what else mattered? But it did make him think.

Sometimes when he felt unsure of his place at the manor or when Robin had a rough night, he’d look at Bruce and long to ask him how he felt. But then Batman would ask for his opinion on a case and Bruce would actually join Dick and Alfred for breakfast, his gaze softening when he looked at Dick, and he’d feel at ease. Bruce and Dick were partners and that was what mattered. There wasn’t any reason to rock the boat with any talk about feelings.

* * *

Being a part of the Teen Titans was strange. He had worked with other superheroes before, but not very often without Bruce and never really with kids his own age. And he wasn’t just part of the team, he was the leader. 

Bruce had been reluctant to let Dick join and was always drilling him on proper team techniques and questioning him on their missions. Alfred insisted that it was just because Bruce worried but Dick knew it was a test. 

_“You should have figured that out before now,”_ Batman had said after the Teen Titans had freed their mentors from Antithesis. Sometimes he thought that the only reason Batman had eventually caved and allowed him to be a part of the team was because he thought it would teach him a lesson. 

It was nice, though, to hang out with other kids in the superhero business and to just relax a little bit. And if he would sometimes watch the other kids with their own mentors and feel something hollow in his gut, well that was his own business.

* * *

Fights between Batman and Robin became routine and Robin began spending more and more time with the Titans. 

Working with Bruce became exhausting. Dick had long been used to being the Bat translator whenever they worked with other superheroes, but he found that he started to wish that Bruce would learn to speak plain just so he could take a break. Bruce had always been gruff and stern, his praise rare and his criticism constant. Dick had always understood it - complacency could lead to death and Bruce just wanted to Dick to succeed - but it started to chafe and Dick wondered if it would kill Bruce to say he was proud.

And then Robin was shot by the Joker and Batman was firing him and he had nowhere to go. Donna had hugged him when she found out and told him that he’d always have a place with them. The rest of the Teen Titans had enthusiastically agreed and Dick thought there might have been a few offers to go after Batman if they hadn’t all been so afraid of him. It was nice, but Dick couldn’t help but feeling lost and empty. Thinking about Gotham hurt, but he found he couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Thank God for Clark Kent. Dick had no idea how he had heard but he must have. He found himself with an invitation to the Kent’s farm, that first Christmas he was completely separated from Gotham, and he found he actually enjoyed himself. Clark took him to the barn that first day he was there, and they talked. Dick had been reminded of a story Superman had told Dick when he was younger, and he found himself clinging to it.

It wasn’t long after that Christmas that Nightwing made his first appearance. 

* * *

It was Kor’i that saw the paper first.

They had been walking back to the tower after getting breakfast at a nearby cafe, enjoying each other’s company and just generally having a good time, when Dick heard Kory gasp and turned around to find her a few steps back staring at a newspaper stand. 

Dick walked back to stand next to her and searched to find what had caught her attention. “Dick…” Kor’i said and tried to pull him away, but it was too late. 

There, on the front page, was a picture of billionaire Bruce Wayne standing next to a young boy. The article announced the adoption of one Jason Todd and noted how happy the pair had seemed. There was even a mention of Bruce Wayne’s previous ward, Dick Grayson, who no one had seen in awhile and the author wondered why he had never been adopted.

“Oh, Richard,” said Kor’i, reading over his shoulder, “I am terribly sorry. Let us go back to the tower and we can talk.”

Dick followed her, that old hollowness he thought he’d finally gotten over brewing in his gut. 

It wasn’t until days later when he read about Robin appearing on the streets of Gotham again that he realized he’d spent years loving a man who had only ever seen him as an obligation or a sidekick or something that could be easily replaced.

* * *

Dick’s cheek throbbed. He tried to ignore it as he entered the kitchen.

“Hey, Alf. you in here?”

“Ah, Master Richard. Were you successful?” Alfred said as Dick stepped into view but then he stopped and stared at him for a moment, gasping slightly.

“I’m alright, Alfie. Bruce just doesn’t want to talk. Here, I’m supposed to give you my key.”

Dick put his key into Alfred’s hand and gave him a quick hug. He knew that Alfred would have something to say as soon as he regained his composure and he really didn’t want to hear it so he made his way to the door. “I’ll call you. Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

“Of course, Master Dick.” He sounded so incredibly sad that Dick was tempted to turn back around, but he knew he couldn’t.

That conversation stayed with him for days. 

“ _Are you blaming me? I left, so Jason replaced me, and because I left Jason died_?”

_“He wouldn’t listen. He wanted to do everything his own way, he was just like you.”_

Dick knew that Bruce was hurting. He knew that deep down, Bruce blamed himself for Jason’s death and that’s why he had struck out so violently. Dick couldn’t blame him. Not really.

Hell, Dick kind of blamed himself too. Not for Jason’s death, but for the fact that he wasn’t there as often as he should have been and that he’d been off world when it had happened. 

Jason had been a good kid. Dick knew what it was like to live with Bruce and remembered the constant pressure. Maybe, if he had been around more, he could have helped him deal with it so he didn’t feel like he had to run off on his own. He’d offered Jason his help, but was that really enough? 

Kor’i told him it wasn’t his fault. She assured him that he couldn’t help Bruce if he didn’t want that help. It wasn’t his job, she said. But Dick had been helping Bruce for so long, he didn’t know how to stop.

_“But why did you let him become Robin before he was ready?”_

The older Dick got, the more problems he could see that Bruce had. He’d known Jason wasn’t ready when they’d me but he hadn’t done anything. He’d trusted Bruce and let him take the lead, like always, and now a kid was dead. Robin was dead.

* * *

Recovering from an injury was always the worst, especially when it was really bad. 

Dick spent those first few days after Two-Face high on pain-med and sleeping 24/7. He thought Bruce had been there, but he wasn’t sure. 

Then he was awake, and stuck in bed. Alfred would sit with him and read to him and make sure he was alright, but he never did see Bruce while he was awake. He was too scared to ask Alfred about it. He had messed up. Of course Bruce didn’t want to see him.

Dick tried to convince himself he was wrong. Bruce cared about him, he knew. He was just emotionally constipated sometimes. 

But then Bruce was there and taking Robin away and Dick was sent reeling. As soon as he was healed enough he packed up some things, left a note, and went out to prove that he could be Robin.

He was successful and Bruce accepted him back. But the memory of being alone and the feeling of not being enough stayed with him.

* * *

The headstone was smooth and stately. It fit perfectly next to those of Martha and Thomas Wayne. Dick was struck with the rather strange thought that Bruce would be proud to see them sitting there together. Three Waynes, together in death.

It was strange, seeing Bruce’s name on a tombstone. Even as Dick had gotten older, Bruce had seemed untouchable. He imagined, years from now, Batman still prowling the streets of Gotham - not even letting age or death keep him from his mission. 

Now here he was, gone and buried. Dick was still alive, caring for Bruce’s son and carrying on his mission. They’d come full circle. 

Dick remembered being small and unsure, coming to Wayne Manor and waiting for the moment he’d be sent somewhere else. He never had been. He remembered Bruce, larger than life, holding him when he cried and indulging him in the strangest of ways. 

Bruce and Dick had had their issues, and sometimes, when Bruce had been alive, those issues were all Dick could see. Even now, amidst all of the words Dick wished he had said and that he could take back, he felt confused and lost when he thought of Bruce and their relationship. But Bruce had been there, Bruce had cared, Bruce had loved him. It had taken him twenty years and Bruce’s death for Dick to completely accept it, but Bruce Wayne had loved Dick Grayson like a son even when he didn’t know how to show it. 

And now there was a boy, abandoned by his mother and orphaned by his father, who didn’t think anybody loved him. Dick didn’t love him yet, but he knew he could if he tried. 

Damian Wayne wouldn’t be alone. 


End file.
